


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied Violence, Mythological Figures, Punishment, Retribution, Sexual Frustration, Violence, bad behavior addressed, daemonic insensitivity, ley lines, ley magic, ley wyrms, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: SSHG, AU: Christmas is just not a time of year Severus Snape wishes to dwell on, over, or near. There is entirely too much frivolity for his taste and he—he is the lonely bastard that no one wishes to spend time with anyway.Gift for Umbrella_ella during the holiday H&C exchange.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 31
Kudos: 265
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Gift Exchange





	The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Umbrella_ella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/gifts).



**Beta-age:** The Dragon and the Rose the Overly Cat-Abused, Mersheeple, Dutchgirl01, and Takingflight48

**Prompts:**

Prompt I: Severus Snape does not like Christmas; it's cold, lonely, and far too festive. This year, however, one young Professor is determined to change that.

Prompt II: "What are you doing here?"

* * *

**The Most Wonderful Time of the Year**

_Bloody Christmas,_

_Here again,_

_Let us raise a loving cup,_

_Peace on Earth,_

_Goodwill to men,_

_And make them do_

_The washing up._

**Wendy Cope**

* * *

He wasn't here for Christmas, he told himself.

That was a whole lot of hell and no—

He most certainly wasn't here because he _liked_ Granger.

_**NO!** _

He wasn't here because she'd invited him to spend the holidays with her and his damnable socially hungry heart had blurted out a yes before his brain could kick in and take it back—

It wasn't like she cared for him as anything but some charity project in need of love like her adopted ley waifs, as he called them—creatures that lived in and around the leys and frolicked around her like she was a human lighthouse that had been waiting just for them.

He stirred the ingredients together in the bowl until they were of a uniform consistency, something many years of potion-making had drilled into him automatically. The filling was thick and practically ate the spoon. He stared at it with an evaluating scowl.

"That's _perfect!_ You're a _natural!"_ Hermione exclaimed with a grin. "Grandmother would happily teach you all of her kitchen secrets, I'm sure."

Hermione had rolled out a line of dumpling dough and had cut maybe fifty-odd circles out of it. She took a small spoon and dipped it into the mixture and put it into the center of the circle. She neatly pinched the edges together with a practiced movement. In a few seconds, there was a perfectly shaped crescent dumpling just waiting to be cooked.

Severus had never cooked anything before with another person—and despite Hermione's tentativeness in potions class, whoever had taught her how to cook had obviously encouraged her boundless enthusiasm and never once gave her reason to doubt herself. He watched her hands move across the dough as a placid, comforting smile spread across her face.

"You _like_ cooking," he said flatly, wondering where his skill with the spoken word had suddenly devolved into stupidly obvious statements, caveman grunts, and gestures.

"I do!" Hermione agreed happily. "Mum was utterly pants at cooking, so Nana taught me everything she could. She said Grandpa could burn water and even managed to melt cast iron—he wasn't allowed in the kitchen after that one."

Snape arched a brow. "At least you didn't blow up cauldrons."

Hermione tilted her head. "Not that I didn't come quite close on occasion."

"Potter and Weasley throwing random things into your cauldron to get your attention could have easily killed you," he pointed out, scowling.

Hermione paled. "You _knew_ about that?"

He scoffed. "Of course I did. It was only your remarkable skill that kept the potion from exploding and blowing the entire classroom to smithereens. That was, at the very least, most impressive."

Hermione blinked at him. "You never said anything to me."

Severus sighed. "It's hard to be a bloody bastard when you are nice, even if that nicety is simply telling the truth."

Hermione seemed thoughtful. "I suppose so."

Just like magic, she had a line of plump dumplings ready for the boiling water, and Severus placed them in carefully as directed, casting a wordless timer over it without even thinking about it.

He caught Hermione looking at it fondly.

She startled. "Sorry, it's just—you are such a natural at everything you do."

Snape frowned. "It's called practice."

"No, I think it's called finesse," Hermione clarified. A little flying serpent poked its head out from her hair and hissed at her. She rubbed under its chin and smiled. "Okay, but be careful, love."

The little creature flew off to parts unknown, a glowing trail of ley vapour streaming behind it.

"Of all the places you could pick to caretake leys, why would you do so at Hogwarts?" he asked. Merlin only knew that _he_ would have ruddy well jumped at the chance to travel the world. "I mean, what are you doing here when you could go anywhere in the world you might wish?"

Hermione tilted her head. "When you take your very first fall into the leys with your master—you are torn to pieces down the very atom—spread out across the entire Earth. You visit and explore every place there is. Every bit of land and every single sea. Then, just when it seems you will surely be lost forever in that endless exploration, a place calls out to you for help—your tending. Its need. Hogwarts called out to me the loudest of all the places in the world. I could no more deny its plea than—we all have our places that need us. Master Eldritch tends Stonehenge—but he _loathes_ the constant stream of international tourists. It makes him cranky. It did not take me very long to realise why he felt that way after I re-materialised and began my training."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "So many people, all with different energies, all poking at finely tuned ley foci with their grubby, curious, utterly oblivious hands. The ley beasts, of course, are intensely curious about each and every visitor, and Master Eldritch had to make very sure that none of them followed some poor schmuck home."

"Did he actually _use_ the word 'schmuck'?" Severus asked, visibly amused.

"It's his favourite word of the decade. He'll probably pick a new one fairly soon—" Hermione shrugged. "The thing about ley beasts, much like those attuned to the Veil, is that the creatures unknowingly act as parasites to those not of the same energy. They are accustomed to pulling vast amounts of their 'like' energy from the very air they live in. If they fasten themselves to a particular person, and that person can grow very sick and no one will know why. Severe fatigue, headaches, muscle and joint pain, even nausea, and the entire thing drives healers nuts because they have no way to know what's causing it and why. Did you know the ancient Japanese had people whose job it was to travel from village to village and find supernatural creatures that had latched onto people? They are so much more finely attuned to the otherly over there—more respect for that which is seen and not seen yet they _know_ it is there. Not all of them, I suppose, but there is much more respect in daily life and rituals for such things in Japan than in, say, Britain or the States. But even there, they must have specialists when it involves the Veil or the leys—for the unattuned, it can easily blind a person. At worst, even kill them."

Severus pondered that for a moment. "How badly was Hogwarts affected without a caretaker in residence?"

Hermione's expression was quite grim. "I cannot say for sure, but just from all the—" she gestured to the vast menagerie of wispy beasts that flitted about her home, "—Friends I have picked up from there. You know, they had been unintentionally latching onto students, teachers, and whatever else they could find just out of sheer curiosity. With a regular caretaker, this is not such a bad thing. The caretaker funnels the ley energy and redirects it so there is no damage to any of the living creatures around them—but if the utter lack of information regarding leys in _Hogwarts: A History_ indicates anything, then they've been very, very lucky the effects were not even worse than they were. Ley beasts are insufferably curious, and those with the strongest magic often attract them the most. It is like they are a beacon, their magic calling like a siren for them to touch and explore—"

Severus had to admit that the school did, in fact, 'feel' better ever since Hermione's return to Hogwarts. After only a month of her tending, the vicious migraines he had had since he had been a student finally eased. Students were markedly less scatterbrained, and even the Whomping Willow seemed a bit less cranky. Another odd side-effect was that some of the ghosts could no longer plague private areas such the restrooms or bathing areas, so Moaning Myrtle had to go moan about her miserable lot in the afterlife somewhere _else_.

She had tried the Great Hall, but the other ghosts violently kicked her out at once, and as for Peeves—

Well, Peeves had always _needed_ a hobby, and he chose the unlucky Myrtle as his new favourite victim, gleefully making her afterlife an _un_ -living hell.

No one was really complaining about it either—imagine that.

The school was finally settling into what might even be considered something approaching normality—with the exception that Granger lived on the grounds as the ley caretaker. She made it clear she wasn't trying to take Argus' job in any way, nor was she trying to step on Hagrid's toes.

But if you asked Severus, Hagrid's toes could use a good stepping on.

No one was asking him, though.

 _Pity_.

Granger had a comfortable little cottage on the grounds on the far side of Black Lake where the leys "sang her to sleep" or so she claimed. He wasn't about to argue as he'd never heard a ley or seen one let alone heard one _sing_. He couldn't deny that since she returned that things had changed for the better, so if it wasn't for her and the leys—what then, was it?

Even he—as reigning Headmaster, despite trying to "gift" the position to Minerva on a number of occasions—was respected. That took some serious getting used to. It meant he had let Slughorn teach Potions, however, and the thought of that made his teeth itch. The man was far too lenient with his students for Severus' taste. At least he wasn't Gilderoy sodding Lockhart.

Small favours there.

Severus fished out the cooked dumplings from the boiling water and set them out for Hermione, and she arranged them neatly on a serving tray, throwing a little chopped scallion and thinly sliced peppers over them. She poured some dipping sauce into small bowls from the larger bowl she had mixed it in, sniffing the tasty concoction with a pleased smile on her face.

 _She has such a beautiful smile_ , he mused, immediately berating himself for such thoughts.

"Thank you for letting my parents visit, Severus," Hermione said. "I know it's not normal to have Muggle visitors on the school grounds."

Snape waved his hand dismissively. "It is of no consequence. The health of the school is reliant on you, and it would be foolish indeed for the Board to forbid you visits from family, thus forcing you to leave the grounds. Though, perhaps those few times when you _did_ have to leave the grounds and the entire board came down with that strange malaise might have convinced them not to try that again."

Hermione attempted to become one with the floor. "I'm so _**sorry**_ about that!"

"It was _**not**_ your fault, Miss Granger!" he snapped and then winced, letting out his breath in a short huff of air. "Pardon, _Hermione._ "

Hermione eyed him, one slim eyebrow cocked. "Feel better, _Severus?_ "

"A… bit embarrassed, really."

Hermione handed him a freshly-brewed cup of tea from seemingly out of nowhere. He took it with a rather baffled expression, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"Old habits?" she asked delicately, her expression sombre.

Snape sighed. "Practically instinctual."

"I suppose you had to be that way long enough that one can only imagine how hard it would be to shake such deeply ingrained behaviours." She sipped her tea, absently stroking what appeared to be a wingless dragon that floated in the air like a serpent would sidewind across the ground. "If you wish to make a nest there, you may, but you are not allowed to bite guests if they come close to it. You are, however, permitted to defend your nest if someone gets grabby. Is that fair?"

The wyrm seemed to contemplate for a bit then rubbed his face against her cheek before gliding off to parts unknown.

Severus suddenly realised something. "Why can I see them?"

Hermione startled as if she'd never even thought about the question before. "Because I _trust_ you," she said simply, seemingly baffled by his obvious surprise.

The front door knocker clanged, and Hermione rushed off to answer it. " _ **Coming!"**_

"Oh, Hermione! What a _beautiful_ tree! Did you decorate it all by yourself?"

"No, Mum, I did have help, being as vertically challenged as I am," Hermione laughed. "Let me take your bags and put them up in the guest room."

"Oh, love, I'm afraid we can't stay the night. We have to visit your Uncle Bernard for Christmas morning which means we have to leave a few days early!"

"Aw, mum, really?"

"Yes, I just wish your little magic rock could take us to Cornwall so we could skip the overcrowded trains. Or, heaven forbid, the airport!"

Hermione smiled. "I'm so glad you remembered how to use it."

"Bah, who doesn't remember the five types of teeth," her mum teasingly admonished with a chuckle.

"People who _don't_ grow up in a family of dentists?" her father tutted, giving Hermione a kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, my dear, and, by the way, just who is this distinguished gentleman, hrm?"

Hermione and Severus flushed at the same time. "Mum, Dad, this is Severus Snape. He's the headmaster for Hogwarts."

"Headmaster for that ginormous school over there? Not quite sure how it manages to be so inconspicuous being such a huge and looming castle like that, but headmaster, eh? Most impressive, indeed." Mr Granger bobbed his head, tutting as he set out a bundle of packages under the tree.

"You somehow managed to end up free this holiday?" Mrs Granger asked, smiling.

"Minerva, my Deputy Headmistress, insists on dousing the entire school in relentless frivolity during the holidays," Snape said with a grimace. "I leave the celebrations to her and take care to stay well out of Minerva's way."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "It's only Christmas, Severus, not the end of the world."

"Might as well be," he retorted, his nose wrinkling. "All of that celebratory cheer, wizard crackers, and truly obnoxious amounts of—glitter." He made 'glitter' somehow sound like one of the deadly sins.

Hermione laughed. "Well, I'll have you know that there is no glitter here in my home," she said. She looked thoughtful. "But there _are_ icicles and snowflakes on the tree because Nana loved those so much."

Mrs Granger put a comforting arm around her daughter and gave her a gentle squeeze "She'd have been so very proud of you, love. Your father and I both are. We know she would have been too."

Hermione sniffed and nodded. "I'm just so glad you're here."

The Grangers scoffed. "Yes, well, you did do your best to erase us for that horrible war, but we're just glad you were able to set things right. Wouldn't be right to be running around Australia as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, of all things. You know I _hate_ that name. All of those names."

Hermione cringed at that. "I was emotionally traumatised and it was the first thing that came to mind!"

"Why couldn't I have been a Phillip or Lawrence? A properly dignified English name?"

Hermione hung her head in shame.

"To be fair, Mr Granger—" Severus offered, "the agents of the war at the time would have been looking for travellers with properly dignified English names and you probably wouldn't be here today. As drastic as Miss Gr—ah, Hermione's actions may have been at the time, they did, in fact, save your lives, I can assure you of that. I can only say that it was a very lucky thing that she was the one to perform the spellwork. Had any of her witless peers attempted it, I'm sorry to say that you would likely still be dancing in the Australian outback with the wallabies and kangaroos."

The Grangers looked horrified and then a profound relief swept over their faces. "I always knew you were special, Hermione. Talented. I always thought you'd be a doctor—a surgeon or perhaps a pathologist. But maybe—fate had other ideas, love. I know we were angry with you at first, but I think I see now—more than ever—that sometimes we don't realise how good something is for us until later." Her father gave Hermione a warm hug. "Now, what's for dinner?"

Hermione beamed. "We made your favourite, Dad. Homemade dumplings, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, brussel sprouts, turkey, and mince pies for dessert, of course!"

"Well, that's a meal that'd make Grandma Granger proud! Especially the dumplings, which were always her secret love, damn all tradition."

Mrs Granger gave her husband a playful shove towards the dinner table.

Severus had been helping Hermione cook most of the day previous and that morning, and he hadn't realised just _how_ much food they'd prepared together until he saw it all spread out on the table like a grand feast in the Great Hall. Also, he hadn't remembered setting the table, either, and he knew Hermione's relationship with the house-elves was still sour at best—

One of the ley wyrms righted a candlestick and ignited it with a small gout of flame before zooming off to places unknown.

_Oh._

_Well, then_.

He wondered what type of agreement Granger—Hermione had brokered with the beasts that eased her guilt over the notion of their enslavement. He knew she would never use anyone or any _thing_ as a matter of principle, but the ley beasts had no one but her to be their advocate, tender, and overall caregiver, and that was a kind of relationship the house-elves did not have with anyone.

The elves didn't _want_ to be taken care of by humans.

They only wanted to _serve_ them.

Hermione—

As he watched the wyrms and varied otherly creatures flit about, peeking around the curtains to peer at the Grangers and then disappear, he realised there was a unique kind of symbiosis between Hermione and her charges. She was a part of them just as they were a part of her—perhaps on some deeper level than the contract that kept the elves bound to individual families or the school.

She said he could see them because she trusted him—

That somehow her trust in him was transferred to all of her charges—

What did that mean?

The conversation around the table was casual and friendly, with the Grangers (whom he learned were named Patrick and Beverley and they _insisted_ on him calling them by their given names) asking questions about the magical world, how 'that magic rock' got them to the house, and how in blazes did she manage to keep real icicles on the tree that didn't melt, amongst various other pressing questions.

Mr Granger, erm, Patrick, asked him questions that made him feel like he was being interrogated by the Aurors and he should just confess all of his sins from the time he'd shat his first nappy by night's end, but the elder Granger seemed fully satisfied by his answers. It was a surreal experience considering he actually considered his answers truthful, something he'd never have wholly done for Albus or Tom Riddle, especially.

When the table "magically" cleaned itself after the evening meal, Beverley Granger practically bounced in her seat as she clapped her hands in excitement, demanding her daughter teach her how it was done. Oddly enough, the ley wyrms seemed to go completely unnoticed by the Granger parents, even as they cavorted and zipped around the cottage, straightening some things, nesting in others, chasing each other around, and always—always rubbing up against Hermione for pets, comfort, and the warmth of her touch.

Her movements were so subtle, and he realised that an outsider who didn't know her or what she did wouldn't even understand that she was soothing, touching, comforting, directing, and even feeding her charges as they glided by.

_Thump._

_Thuuuuump_ _**.** _

Severus turned his head to see a ley wyrm wobbling next to his face.

_ThuuuMP!_

It bonked into his shoulder.

He reached out and tentatively caressed its head.

It opened its mouth and hissed happily, gave him a fond slurp, and then zoomed off with a _FOOOP!_

Severus blinked. That was—new.

His fingertips tingled slightly where the wyrm had rubbed up against him. It buzzed in his brain a little, and he suddenly realised _why_ the ley beasts needed caretakers—they were curious and helpful creatures, even rather mischievous, but whenever they touched the uninitiated, the energy caused a bit of a random seizure in the brain.

Either that, or the energy latched onto his and then when it tried to return to the ley wyrm, it took a little of his with—

That _could_ explain the migraines and the general lack of enthusiasm that had plagued Hogwarts for decades upon decades.

No caretaker for the leys—

Thousands upon thousands of ley creatures flitting about with no helping hand to guide them out of unintended trouble—

Yet, Hermione seemed to do these tasks without seeming like she was. He was watching her walk across the green, and seemingly doing nothing at all. Many questioned if she did anything.

 _Why_ was she here?

Did she _do_ anything?

Many people questioned what, exactly, "Master Granger" did if all she was ever seen doing was walking around the castle and grounds.

He snorted. So much more than walk, he realised.

Severus stared at his hands as a familiar bone-deep ache began to spread throughout them. He made a fist and the feeling went away. He took a long, slow breath. This time of year—

Always the aches, the pains, and the inexplicable blackouts.

He _hated_ them.

"Time for presents!" Hermione called out. "We get to do them early this time because Mum and Dad are here."

Severus arched a brow as his lip curved slightly with habitual distaste.

"Come on," Patrick said, beckoning with his hand. "If I have to sit here and listen to the women giggle incessantly, so do you."

Severus smacked his lips once and rolled his eyes. "As you wish."

He sat awkwardly on the settee, and the pillow squeaked and promptly launched itself at the window.

Hermione caught it deftly, smoothly guiding a startled creature into the relative safety of her voluminous hair, fluffed the pillow, and set it back down next to Severus.

"Startled that poor pillow and gave it what for," Patrick said with a hearty chuckle.

Hermione gave Snape a tiny wink and sat down beside him, handing him a package. Her parents already had a pile of presents around them, and Severus noticed that the family were all expert "tape pickers" who tried to preserve wrapping paper in pristine condition instead of ripping into it like a band of rabid weasels—or Ronald Weasley into a pile of barbecue chicken wings.

He shuddered at the very thought of revisiting that last shared meal at Grimmauld Place—or any meal in the Hogwarts' Great Hall.

Hermione nudged him. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"

"I—" he paused, unsure what to think. He was the most woefully unprepared git when it came to Christmas—he hadn't even thought to—

"I'll be right back!" he said stiffly, abruptly _Disapparating_ from the room.

Hermione's parents stared wide-eyed at the empty space that had once contained Severus Snape.

"Is he always so sudden?"

"And billowy?"

Hermione ducked her chin sheepishly. "Definitely the billowy. Not _always_ so sudden, however."

_**Crack!** _

" _ **Ow!"**_

"Oh, Severus!" Hermione leapt up to help Snape through the doorway as he rubbed at his head with his wrist while carrying a hamper of presents.

"Do you change the height of the entryway on purpose, or does it just like to move around?" Snape grumbled.

Hermione winced. "It seems to have a mind of its own."

"Glorious," Snape said, rubbing his head. He gestured with his hand, and the presents flung themselves across the room and into the startled Grangers' laps.

Beverley squeaked with surprise as Patrick caught it deftly in his hands.

Snape frowned with discomfiture as he handed Hermione a gift wrapped in tasteful silver paper.

Hermione's expression changed to a sun's radiance as she took it. "Thank you, Severus!" She rushed back to her seat on the settee and started to undo the ribbon.

Severus sat down beside her awkwardly, taking the wrapped gift he had abandoned upon his Disapparition. He carefully slid his finger under the paper and neatly navigated all the tape in a few swift surgical flicks.

The wrapping paper fell away to expose a beautiful silk cravat of a burgundy so dark that it was almost black. As he touched it, it warmed in his hand giving off a pleasant, comforting warmth—just like her touch. A small parchment note lay within the silk, and he fingered it.

 _To protect you from the leys,_ Hermione mouthed without saying anything aloud, her smile sending a thrill of warmth down his body.

Severus tugged on his cravat and loosened it, removing it with a practiced motion. He tied the new one around his neck and tucked it in, and immediately it felt like he had been wrapped in a hug. Some of the more curious wyrms came up immediately to inspect him, snuggling under his arms and hands for pets and zipping around his neck, bonking his chin, and gliding off into the cottage.

He immediately realised he felt no tingle in his head that signalled a migraine forming, no heaviness of energy or tug as his energy would have normally siphoned off to follow the wyrm.

He looked at Hermione with a wonder-filled expression.

"Like it?" Hermione asked.

He nodded silently, swallowing hard. "Thank you. It was a very thoughtful gift, indeed."

"Oh no, Beverley, Hermione got the poor man a cravat. She'll be just like your sister, Barbara, giving ties to every male around because she can't figure out any other appropriate gifts!"

Hermione flushed crimson.

"In my case," Severus said calmly. "This _is_ a most appropriate gift. Let there be no question about that."

Severus eyed Hermione's half-liberated present. "Aren't you going to open it?"

Hermione startled, and she immediately began to pick at it a little more enthusiastically.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her tender picking. "You _can_ rip the paper, you know. It has no feelings."

Hermione stared at him. "But—it's so beautiful."

Severus wrinkled his nose. He waved his hand dismissively, inwardly cursing how Lucius' pretentious habits had somehow infested his own personal mannerisms.

Hermione successfully extricated the gift box from the paper after having kept it perfectly intact. She lifted the box and gasped. Her finger caressed the exquisite goblin silver hair comb that was set with a profusion of flawless blue sapphires and emeralds as she gazed upon it with awe. The comb held the rich patina of age, but the deep blue and green gems seemed to hint of the ocean. A lingering sense of time hung about it. Shimmering dragons and clouds in an intricately detailed filigree covered the top of the comb.

The moment her fingers touched the metal, a vibration as if a bell had been struck seemed to emanate from Hermione, and the comb floated up from the box and zinged into her hair, immediately taming the curls into place to allow the comb to shine.

Unbeknownst to the Granger parents, all the ley beasts promptly slithered out of various crooks and crannies to admire the comb, rubbing up against both it and Hermione, and then zipped off back to their hiding places. Each rub caused the comb to shine even more brightly, losing the tarnish of unintentional neglect from countless years of disuse. While the comb had not been blackened with tarnish by any means, Severus had never seen it shine quite like that—even when it had graced his mum's hair. He'd never seen it float into place, either, or anything remotely like what he'd just seen.

"Wow," Patrick said, chuckling. "I'm not sure if that's a normal thing for you folk, but I think that's definitely a gift that wanted to be given!"

Hermione flushed, touching the comb with her fingers. "Oh Severus, wherever did you get it? It's so beautiful." she turned to him meaningfully as she mouthed, _It's a ley-comb! They're super rare!_

"Whatever are you two whispering about? No need to be all secretive," Beverley admonished, opening up her own present. She made no point to be quiet as she squealed in delight as she peered at a perfect miniature replica of Hogwarts surrounded in a globe of swirling snowflakes. "How on earth did you know I _love_ snow globes? Did Hermione tell you?"

"Lucky guess," Severus said, utterly deadpan, having seen numerous pictures of Beverley Granger with a snowglobe in every one.

Severus looked at Hermione, who was still grazing her fingers across the beautiful comb. "It was my mum's. Her mother's, and her mother's mother before that. It's a Prince family heirloom."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, hastily attempting to give it back to him.

Severus shook his head. "It wanted to be with you. It's fitting that it stays with you instead of tarnishing away in a drawer in an unused cabinet."

Snape was suddenly aware of two pairs of eyes staring at them both. He turned to look at them, his notoriously intimidating professorial expression automatically coming to his face.

The Grangers were not immune to almost two decades worth of practice in giving _that_ particular look.

They immediately dove into their presents like firsties struggling to turn to the right page in their textbooks.

Hermione elbowed him, giving him a look.

He raised an eyebrow, shrugging with an innocent "Who, me?" expression.

The rest of the evening went much less awkwardly with Snape baffled by Hermione's parents' absolute glee at getting presents. Hermione seemed to get a lot of "practical" gifts instead of trinkets, and he was somewhat pleased that she preferred things she could actually use over something that could not be worn daily without looking like Narcissa Malfoy dressing up for the latest glittering social gala.

Hermione's mum, on the other hand, well, Hermione had obviously gotten her practical sense from her father, whose acquisition of a small screwdriver set, an updated book on the treatment of certain dental conditions, and a snake light seemed to send him over the moon.

Beverley Granger oohed and ahhed over her trinkets, and despite her very sharp mind and dental sense, she clearly _did_ like her shiny baubles and such.

"Well, aren't you going to open your present?" Patrick Granger asked, rubbing his fingers over the evening shadow of whiskers on his face.

Severus startled.

Hermione was all smiles as she pointed to the last package under the tree.

Severus sheepishly walked to the tree and picked up the last package—a festive looking package covered in small, stylised reindeer, painted Christmas lights and snow. The package was strangely hefty for its size, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He resisted the urge to shake it like some addled child who didn't understand the concept of fragile.

He sat back down on the settee, surgically removing the wrapping paper in a single quick movement and stared.

He lifted the well-loved leather flap on the case within.

And stared some more.

An antique vial and bottle set sat on a mahogany rack. Cobalt blue, crystal, and glass in a variety of jewel tones greeted his fingertips. Some of the bottles had been sealed and unopened for an unknown number of years. Some of them were pristine and clean—ready for use.

"I'm not sure if he likes it or not," Beverley Granger whispered to her husband.

Patrick merely shrugged in response.

"It's wonderful," Snape said, blinking. "Thank you for this. Truly."

The Grangers looked pleased and relieved, smiling after a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank goodness," Beverley said. "When Hermione said her friend was a potions expert, we weren't sure if that meant medicine or alchemy, or even if it would just be something you'd use or keep on a shelf somewhere and dust off from time to time—"

"No, it's perfect," Severus said. "I can actually use it." He lifted one of the bottles and peered into it, resisting the urge to wave his wand over it for quick identification. His eyes narrowed. "It _can't_ be—"

Hermione nudged him. "What is it?"

He tilted the bottle and peered closer. "I think those are Worrywart seeds. They were supposed to be extinct—if these are still viable—Hermione, this gift is beyond priceless. They form the base in certain potions that cannot be replicated because the plant is extinct. Powerful mind-healing agents. It was obliterated from the last known location during the great dragon plague—they had to burn the land down to scorched earth to keep the plague from spreading further. They didn't even try to save seeds because everyone was in a blind panic to keep it from spreading to the Wizarding communities. "

"We picked out something good then? Patrick asked.

"I truly cannot thank you enough," Severus assured him with complete sincerity.

The Grangers exchanged glances with each other. "You just take good care of our Hermione. She's so independent, but people don't always understand her. She needs someone who can keep her on her toes. Challenge her thinking. Be there for her when we can't."

" _Dad!"_ Hermione hissed, turning beetroot red.

Severus realised he felt something stir inside him with the Grangers' assumption that he and Hermione were pursuing a relationship. Their obvious approval was unexpected, but the fact remained they weren't in a relationship, and he was pretty damn sure that Granger—Hermione—only saw him as a friend and socialisation project the like of which one would slowly accustom a feral stray to human contact.

Why did that revelation cause a strangely hollow feeling in his chest?

The ache in his bones reminded him, and he made a tight fist to distract himself from the pain. "I fear you must have mis _ **KKKKTH**_ —" he started to say as a fat dumpling swiftly arrived into his mouth by express wyrm delivery. The wyrmling stared hard at him, eyes narrowed as it unceremoniously slapped him about the face with its tail before zipping off to parts unknown.

"Must have been hungry," Patrick said, visibly amused. Beverley nodded in fervent agreement.

Severus chewed a bit awkwardly.

Despite having not managed to say what he had intended, he couldn't help but notice a new sadness in Hermione's eyes even as she smiled at him.

It gnawed at him, turning his stomach into knots. If it had been before he had been given the new cravat, he would have dismissed it as just a reaction to being tail slapped by a ley-wyrm, but he realised he didn't even have that to blame.

"Well, my love, we should be going. We have to pack for Bernard's place, and then we have to brave the holiday trains." Patrick stood then, and Hermione gave her father a warm hug and kiss before giving her mother the same.

"Have a safe trip, Mum, Dad," Hermione said with a somewhat tearful gaze.

Her mum leaned in as if to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and Hermione's eyes grew very wide as her mother whispered to her. Her parents gathered their belongings, held their bags as they held a stone in their hands.

"Incisors, cuspids, bicuspids, molars, wisdom teeth."

_FffffLLLOP!_

The Granger parents disappeared in a swirl of magic as Beverley let out a slight screech and clung to Patrick like a burr.

Hermione whispered to a wyrm hovering near her shoulder, tickling it under its chin. "Please make sure they have a safe trip."

The elder wyrm wobbled and licked her nose, poofing into a fine mist of ley vapour as it teleported out without a sound.

"Interesting Portkey phrase," Severus commented.

Hermione looked sheepish. "Well my first one was kind of an inside joke, but the Portkey official told me to change it."

"Oh? What was it?"

Hermione slid her eyes sideways.

"Ms Granger," he rumbled, his voice returning to Professorial proper.

"It was supposed to be a phrase Mum once used to teach me the proper use of had."

"Which was?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "James, whilst Charles had 'had' had 'had had'; 'had had' had had the Inspector's approval."**

Severus' eyebrows attempted to launch into space. "You worry for them still?" Severus asked, rubbing his chin.

Hermione shrugged. "Not quite as much as I used to, but there are the unknown threats that could easily take advantage of knowing who my parents are, no thanks to Rita Skeeter, should they happen to run across them. The new house in Yorkshire has enough protective wards and enchantments on it to rival Grimmauld Place, but whenever they leave it—"

"There is always the chance they wouldn't recognise danger even if it was right there in front of them," Severus sighed.

Hermione nodded.

Severus frowned. "Has anyone tried?"

Hermione took in a breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not really sure. There _was_ a disturbance in the ley energy around my parents' place, but that can happen whenever laymen, magicals, and hedge-wizards dabble. That isn't my territory, exactly, so the feelings I get from the leys over there are somewhat vague. If there were a disturbance here, however, I would know a lot more detail, and the wyrms could not resist latching onto an intruder and messing with them. That's just the wyrms." She waved her hand as if to encompass everything. "Some of these guys will do way more than simply mess with a person. Say the right spell, mess with the right energy, and they will pour out en masse to investigate and—"

"Annihilate any perceived threat," Severus said slowly.

"Unfortunately."

"Pity they weren't on duty when the Dark Lord decided to visit with his army."

Hermione pulled one side of her hair around her ear where it had fallen out of the hair comb, and the comb hummed, taming the hair back into place. "Oh, well that is pretty useful!" she cried. She wrinkled her nose. "Something was dampening the leys here until I came back. It was almost as if—someone had somehow turned down the volume to make this area less attractive to the ley beasts. They were all lingering out on the outskirts of Hogwarts until I broke down the blockages. Once the flows were back to their normal strength, the creatures stopped a lot of the leeching off people for their normal 'food,' as it were."

Severus fingered his teacup, sipping it, then frowned when he realised he hadn't even realised he'd had tea or was even thirsty until just then.

Hermione snickered. "They're remarkably efficient little guys."

Severus blinked. "You know—what if the Headmasters from back however many hundreds of years ago did it so they could bring in the house-elves? House-elves need to be useful or their magic soon withers and they die."

"What?!" Hermione gasped.

Severus shook his head. "It's why the old families bound their magic to the house-elves so many years ago—to keep them alive and give them the responsibility they required. House-elves have been with the Wizarding World ever since—well, no one can quite remember because it's been so long. The magical world was already so accustomed to having them, and without a ley master in residence, they couldn't see what they were doing was creating another, infinitely worse problem. The Founders built the school at a ley nexus for a reason, and then the later Headmasters dampened what they assumed was preventing their house-elves from being effective. But none of them were ley masters."

Hermione's face was ashen with horror.

Severus startled, reaching out to take her trembling hands. "What is it? What did I say?"

"Severus, ley masters—once you fall into the leys and they accept you—your energy becomes a part of them forever. Either Hogwarts never _had_ a ley master—or, or—" She trailed off, her amber eyes wide with trepidation.

"Someone forcibly removed them from the leys," Severus said, horrified realisation setting in.

"It would have been utterly agonising—torture, even—and the ley creatures themselves would have become violent and uncontrollable." She shook her head. "The ley creatures here aren't violent though—not like the ones near Bermuda."

"Perhaps—they died and were never replaced," he suggested.

Hermione frowned. "Then it would have happened a very long time ago—before the leys preserved their keepers."

"Hrm?" Severus inquired.

"When a keeper bonds to a specific place it—always wants them around. It preserves them, body and mind. It's entirely selfish, of sorts. If it likes its keeper, it—"

"Keeps them close." Severus gave her a look, one black eyebrow raised.

Hermione nodded. "So either the leys didn't agree with their keeper or whatever happened went down before they started to get, erm, needier."

Severus' black eyes flashed suddenly. "Salazar's exile."

Hermione blinked.

"He was forced to leave Hogwarts. They say he went mad."

"If they forced him to leave the leys he was bound to, Salazar would have been driven mad," Hermione asserted. "Severus, if they cut off the leys to suppress their natural flow just so they could drive off the leys' keeper and bring in house-elves bound to obey the reigning Headmaster—"

Hermione abruptly sat down hard. A ley wyrm zipped over, shoved a fluffy pillow behind her, and snuggled down under her arm to comfort her. She snuggled it tightly, and the wyrm's "eyes" seemed to bulge slightly, but it didn't try to leave. Hermione caressed its head and kissed its nose. "Thank you, little love."

The wyrm seemed to purr, a cloud of ley vapour emanating from its body.

"Severus, I can't even imagine what horrific agony it would have been for Salazar Slytherin if he had been the ley master of Hogwarts. To be cut off from your home… your life—If it's true. If that is what happened. That could explain why the leys became so much more protective of their chosen. Master Eldritch said the bond between the leys and their caretakers are so strong now, we have to be extra careful what we think lest the creatures think we mean for them to "fix" what is bothering us. The creatures don't always understand that you can't just vapourise the things that bother you."

"How disappointing," Severus said dryly.

"Severus!" Hermione gasped, but she laughed, and the wrinkles around his eyes appeared—something she realised meant he was amused.

"So, the bond has changed between people who fall into the leys and what was?" Severus asked.

Hermione nodded. "I don't know if what they did back then could be done now. If someone tried to block me off from the leys in this area, the leys outside it would react to preserve me—keep me from going mad. I couldn't be completely cut off like that. Maybe, that is why this happened—why the leys adapted and became more, erm, possessive. My master said every apprentice had to throw themselves into the leys, no exception, and maybe that is why. You become a part of them and they you. They recognise you no matter what place in the world you make your home, even when your home area becomes the most familiar."

Hermione's face wrinkled. "It's odd though—it's like some oppressive magic is trying to constantly shut down the streams—the arteries that should be strong and pulsing with magic. The school itself does not resist me—it wants my help—but something keeps fighting the return and tries to put things back. I cannot trace it though. The magic is not the same magic I am used to."

Severus seemed to realise something. "What happens when you— aren't here to set things right?"

Hermione frowned. "The creatures would start moving back out towards where the ley flows are stronger, or they would latch onto people and drain their magic for simple lack of access to better food. Since I am here now, there are many healthy populations. If they were to suddenly not have the magic they normally did, they would find the next closest thing."

"People."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Maybe not just people. They would instinctively seek out the most powerful reservoirs of magic. Magical creatures, artefacts, even the walls of Hogwarts herself. They would eventually move to better locations, but not before all other options were drained. The ley beasts become very adamant about staying in what they consider their home. Kind of like how students like to stay in the same seat in class."

"And they have no reason to think this energy would just up and leave of its own accord," Severus reasoned. "Naturally, it would be here."

Hermione nodded sadly. "I hadn't realised just how much magic was being withheld from Hogwarts," she said. "She's been crying out for release, and all this time, somehow I never heard it—"

"You're here now," he said. "Perhaps it will take a bit of time, but you will be here to set things to rights." His hand rose to touch her chin, his fingertips brushing lightly against her cheek. "I have no doubt whatsoever that you will help Hogwarts, just as she desires."

His eyes caught the sight of the present Hermione's parents had given her. "May I?"

Hermione startled. "Of course."

He picked up the calligraphy framed in a delicate frame. "The Song of Durin. I had no idea you were a Tolkien fan."

"Dad used to read it to me before bed."

"He put you to sleep with epic tales of war and bloodshed?"

Hermione smiled. "He used to sing the songs too."

"Hn."

"Severus?"

"Hrm?"

"Could you read it to me?"

"You want me. To read. To you?" His brows furrowed.

Hermione flushed. "You don't have to. I just—"

"I suppose I can— humour you."

He pretended the look of joy on Hermione's face didn't affect him. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

" _The world was young the mountains green,_

_No stain yet on the Moon was seen,_

_No words were laid on steam or stone_

_When Durin woke and walked alone."_

As Severus spoke, the wyrms slithered out from their hiding places, humming a strangely compelling thrum and beat like heartbeat or distant clang of hammer to anvil. Severus found his voice changing into a flawless cadence and then broke into song.

" _He named the nameless hills and dells;_

_He drank from yet untasted wells;_

_He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,_

_And saw a crown of stars appear,_

_As gems upon a silver thread,_

_Above the shadows of his head."_

The scene played about the room as clearly as if viewed in a pensieve, the ley magic crafting the place and characters as if they were real. Severus found himself swept into the beat of the song, his voice carried by the beat the wyrms had set for him.

They continued the ballad, feeling the spill of magic like his first touch to a wand. The wyrms hummed, crooned, creating the kind of acapella that human voices could not reproduce. He could smell the scents, feel the soft breeze against his face, and hear the chatter of dwarves in their halls of stone.

" _...The world is grey, the mountains old,_

_The forge's fire is ashen-cold;_

_No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:_

_The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;_

_The shadow lies upon his tomb_

_In Moria, in Khazad-dûm._

_But still the sunken stars appear_

_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_

_There lies his crown in water deep,_

_Till Durin wakes again from sleep."_

_(tFotR, book 2, Ch 4, "A Journey in the Dark")_

As Severus' voice finished the unintentional song, the scene faded, and the wyrms did a series of happy loop-de-loops before disappearing. He felt a strange pang of loss as the magic faded, having never before felt it so close— so very tangible.

"That was so beautiful, Severus," Hermione said, her eyes full of warmth. They glittered like topaz in the flickering firelight.

His hand was brushing against her cheek, his eyes resting on her lips. "So are you," he whispered.

His head dipped so he could capture her mouth, and he could taste the lingering flavours of Darjeeling tea and milk—

Her hands gently grasped his face, and the sensuous feel of her slender fingers weaving into his hair sent shivers travelling all the way down his spine to his all-too-happy-to-oblige cock.

Yet, he could barely realise it as they soon lay entangled on the settee, filling the room with their eager moans. She had easily as many scars as he— and he kissed them all, tracing them lightly with his tongue as he mapped his way across her lovely curves. As his mouth found her breast, she practically floated off the ground had he not already been pinned above her.

The sound of her breathy whimpers drove him on to continue, all thoughts of their not being in a relationship falling in a quick dive off the cliff of relationship denial.

His body shuddered with the incredible ecstasy of her willing touch— gods, she was seeking out his skin in places he'd forgotten still had sensation. The sheer rapture of it, that she was actually touching him, wanting him— his brain was stunned and utterly unable to comprehend or deny his own need. He just knew that the absolute bliss of her touch filled the endless chasms he hadn't realised had been waiting to be explored by her hands.

And, _Merlin_ , her hands—

One hand wrapped securely around his cock and it immediately approved of any and everything she may or may not have done since she had become of age.

"Severus," she whispered, breathily. " _Please_."

"Hermione—" He allowed her to guide him between her legs. Unbeknownst to him, his hands had blackened and formed into a pair of twisted talons. He panted as his eyes began to glow a deep red and a pair of horns poked out from his lank black hair.

_**Crack!** _

A house-elf popped in and frantically tugged on Snape's arm.

Severus growled at the elf, yellowed teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

"Headmaster must come immediately!" the little elf squeaked shrilly. "Headmaster is needed _**right now!"**_

The wyrms were emerging en masse from the floors, ceiling, and walls— hissing as they slithered in wisps of ley energy that crackled ominously as they moved. The tension in the room grew steadily thicker as the energy grew even angrier. Larger and larger wyrms pushed their way in having been sufficiently pissed off by the house-elf's blatant invasion past their numerous layers of protective wards.

The house-elf imperiously snapped his fingers, and Snape's clothes were immediately back on him. "Hogwarts be needing you!" the house elf blurted. "Needs you _**right now!**_ "

Snape looked at Hermione who was covering herself with a ley wyrm in total mortification. The poor ley wyrm was trying its best to be a cover-all, with limited success.

[ ](https://imgur.com/XNOpzHD)

"Hermione," he said, his mind telling him to get whatever needed to be done over and done with so he could come back to her while his heart told him let Minerva handle whatever was going on because that was why he had a bloody Deputy Headmistress to begin with!

"Go ahead," Hermione said, gazing at the Christmas ornaments on the tree with a pointed stare.

Suddenly, he completely understood _why_ Lucius had damn near throttled Dobby to death more than a few times in history—

"I'll be right back," he promised.

Hermione nodded briskly, staring fixedly at the floor.

As the crack of the elf's quick _Disapparate_ carried him off, all he could seem to remember was the look of utter dejection on Hermione's face and the sheer agony of having to depart when it was without a doubt the absolute _last_ thing he wished to do.

* * *

"What is it that was so bloody important that you brought me back to my empty office, elf?" Snape snarled, glaring at the house elf in question.

'Headmaster was about to make _very_ big mistake!" the elf squeaked up at him.

Snape was seeing red. "What mistake was that? I _finally_ have someone who truly enjoys my company and you would deny me the time to enjoy it?!"

Rage was all he felt.

It filled his body up until his very bones seemed to ache. His body jerked, twisted. His hands twisted into cruel talons. His skin grew black as pitch as his face jutted out into a snarling snout. Dagger teeth clacked together as a long tongue slithered and dripped ropes of slime. His feet pulled from his dragonhide boots and transformed into cloven hooves. Curving black horns twisted around his head, forming into intimidating spirals.

His talons crushed the now-terrified elf with a horrific crunching sound. "Naughty, naughty," the snarling Krampus growled, shaking the elf as it turned into a bundle of birch switches. "Such naughtiness shall not go— unpunished."

* * *

_**The Krampus Visits Britain!** _

_Terrified children reported to their parents that they were never going to be bad again as sightings of the infamous and supposedly mythological Christmas daemon, the Krampus, made waves throughout Britain. Children young and old, many of the known troublemakers, turned over amazing new leaves by helping out with chores and listening to their parents, many of them crying and wailing that they didn't want to be dragged off into the Underworld and beaten forever._

_Even more strangely—_

_House-elves all across Wizarding Britain were scared witless by the arrival of the Krampus into their families' homes. The elves have been reportedly trembling and crying and beating upon themselves with birch switches for being "bad, bad house-elves."_

_Yet, oddly, not all house-elves seem to have been visited by the Krampus in a negative manner, nor have the children. Some children happily reported having received a large knit boot filled to overflowing with sweet treats and small toys. Others delightedly reported receiving items such as new clothing and school supplies that will give them a desperately needed boost after the depredations of war. Some families have reported that their elves seem much happier as if they received something special for the holiday, but as to precisely what those things were, the elves chose not to disclose their secrets._

_Reports of the Krampus have happened every year, but this was the first year to include reports of house elves being visited in the mix. The recent reports have stated the Krampus was decidedly more wicked and intolerant of bad behaviour, but when Aurors questioned the families as to what their nocturnal visitor might have considered "bad behaviour," the children immediately started scrubbing the floors and furniture with surprising haste._

* * *

When Severus awoke the next morning, it was to a vicious, pounding migraine the like of which made every bone in his body ache in sympathy. The bright sunlight from the window was like a knife stabbing directly into his brain, and he had to silently scream in agony with his face pressed into his pillow like he was being punished with the _Cruciatus_ again.

After taking a few calming deep breaths, he set his feet down on the floor and performed a quick mental inventory and soon found himself coming up one cart short of a hayride.

He frowned.

The blackouts.

He tried to retrace his steps and came up even shorter than short.

_Fuck._

He took a few more cleansing breaths. His hand tipped over a roll of Christmas wrapping paper and a memory stirred of him wrapping up his mum's favourite hair comb—

For Hermione.

_Hermione._

Everything was fuzzy about the prior evening and he had never before been so frustrated by not knowing what had happened.

Every year before, he'd just suspected he'd drunk himself into a lonely stupor and tried to erase the Christmas hols from his memory—

But, he'd gone to spend the holiday with Hermione.

_**Chomp!** _

Something bit his eyebrow, and he clutched it in pain.

_**OW!** _

His eyebrow was bleeding.

_The hell?_

He got up at once, putting on his clothing with swift, automatic efficiency. His hand hesitated on the silken cravat as a familiar soothing warmth travelled up his arm. As he wrapped it around his neck, the throbbing pain in his head ceased almost immediately.

_Because I trust you, Severus._

Severus frowned as he remembered Hermione's radiant smile. Her touch against his skin, her scent, the sound of her moan as she said his name—

His face grimaced in pain as the memory of her touch reminded him of the gaping hole in his— soul.

_**CHOMP!** _

" _ **Ow!"**_ Snape rubbed his arm as a blurry vision of a serpent like dragon-thing came into view. It and a few of its scowling comrades—

They wobbled and sidewinded back and forth in the air, wisps of ley vapour dripping off their bodies— but something was missing and they seemed rather agitated.

There was something odd about them that he couldn't quite place.

There was less ley vapour?

Was that even _possible_?

He frowned at the memory, reaching out his hand.

The wyrm seemed familiar, and an image of Hermione covering herself with that particular wyrm came to mind as she cringed away from—

Him?

No—

No, not him.

Who?

The wyrm bonked his head, teeth exposed as a silvery tongue _schhhlurp_ ed his forehead— and then bit his nose.

Snape rubbed his sore nose as he caressed the wyrm slowly, his hand drawing over the wisps of ley energy.

They were visibly weaker. They felt— out of sorts. Angry? Desperate? Both?

The other wyrms were gathering, clearly agitated, and he could sense their growing impatience. They obviously wanted him to understand something, and he was at a complete loss as to what that could be.

_**Pop!** _

A house elf showed up with a rather panicked look on his face.

The wyrms whipped their heads around and hissed in unison, propelling themselves forward.

The house-elf hastily grabbed Snape's arm—

_**CRACK!** _

Severus suddenly found himself in the—

" _ **Fucking really?!"**_ Severus cursed out loud, feeling like it wasn't quite normal for him to do so, but it was the only thing that came to mind. It felt terribly awkward, as if he'd just kicked someone square in the nads in the middle of a nasty wand fight.

He was in a very dark chamber with walls that were dripping with water, but his vision was slowly starting to make out shapes.

He heard the telltale _**crack**_ of a house elf arriving nearby, but it was greeted with snarling, growling, hissing violence as a great many somethings hit something else and that aforementioned something screamed shrilly in pain before _Disapparating_ back out.

_Bump._

_Thump._

He felt for his wand in his robes and cast _Lumos_.

Something was nudging him steadily onward. It wasn't violent, but it was quite insistent.

More Apparitions—

Even more vicious snarling and hissing sounded off in the darkness beyond the reach of his _Lumos_.

He was being pushed ever forward, and the now-familiar wyrms were getting more and more agitated and insistent as more and more elves attempted to Apparate in only to be driven off.

As he was pushed into another chamber, wincing as he bumped his head on a low-hanging vine, he squinted and rubbed his eyes as the blinding white-blue light of pure energy arched and forked through the room like lightning. It was almost as if—

The energy was bouncing off something suspended in the center of the room as if it was desperately trying to get to it.

The room smelled strongly of ozone, the sharp tang of it making it hard to smell anything else. The energy was throwing itself at the barrier, and so were countless other beasts—

Ley beasts.

The magic in the center of the room, a barrier of some sorts, flexed and pushed back at the attacks, protecting whatever was inside—

He staggered forward, and cried out as he realised what, no who, was inside.

" _ **Hermione!"**_ he yelled, reaching out to her.

The barrier zapped him silly, sending him flying arse over teakettle to crash into the far wall.

_Severus._

He heard her call his name. He felt Hermione's voice resonate like a bell in his chest, but it was frighteningly weak and riddled with pain. He could feel the searing agony of total isolation, the terrible fear of being parted from the magic that so desperately wanted, needed to reunite with her.

"Do you wish to save her?"

Severus blinked blearily, rubbing his head. He made out the shape of a man dressed in ancient robes, a very familiar locket hanging around his neck.

"Who—"

A low chuckle. "Child, if you do not know me by now, whatever will the rest of my misguided House think?"

"Salazar," he breathed, wincing in pain. "The same— or rather, the different."

The shimmering form of Salazar simply shrugged.

"You, cursed to roam Eternity as a punisher of naughtiness— how little they knew when they cursed your body what great power it would give. Those little crawling insects that wore a lion's skin. For me, they feared the power of the leys when they realised I would outlive them all."

Slytherin's head swivelled as he moved his head from side to side almost serpent-like. "So, before this could happen, they brought in elves— the only magic that could bend the rules of human magic— sneak past wards and protective enchantments. They used elf magic to dampen the leys and pretended that the castle was still just as powerful and magical without them. It drove me mad—"

Salazar bared his teeth. "I saw enemies everywhere. My bond to the leys was not yet complete. Even so, I was tortured day and night by the terrible longing— the burning need. But, they bound my own magic in tendrils of elfin magic, keeping me just as they are keeping her— torn away from the leys' embrace— for if she were to rejoin it, the lies they have been harbouring would all come crashing down as the leys became strong again. Hogwarts would become truly magical again, just as it was in the beginning. As it should have been."

"Why now? Why did it not happen sooner? She's been here for years."

"There _must_ be yin and yang, Headmaster," Salazar said with a wide-eyed shake of his head, his amusement genuine. "A meeting of the light and dark to properly balance Hogwarts, the way it should have been so long ago."

"What stopped you?" Severus asked.

"Rowena refused my petition for her hand," Salazar said quietly. "She truly believed my natural affinity for Dark magic was a certain path to evil, and if I continued to learn of it or worse, teach it, then I was a threat to the idyllic kind of peace she so desired for the school. Rowena ended up having a child with another man, binding her magic to a relatively mundane, uninspired line that soon faded away into obscurity. The name was so forgettable that everyone, in fact, forgot it. Perhaps, she willed it to be so, for she wanted the independence of being a witch with her own mind, fearing what it would mean to truly bind herself to someone of equal ability— or, gods forbid— even greater power and she not be the one. On. Top."

Salazar smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. "It was a different time back then," he said. "The witch alone could be powerful, but a witch married was automatically considered to be less so. To continue to wear her crown of authority, she had to marry insignificance in order to guarantee her seat was sound."

"Rowena was the one who brought in the elves, you see," Salazar said. "She knew what they could do, more so than most, and in my blind choice to continue seeing her as I had always seen her— powerful and fair— I did not feel the dampening until it was already too late. And the leys— they were already too weak to formalise the bond that would have allowed me to remain connected to them. It's a bit different now. Leys are so much more possessive, protective. Make no mistake of the rage that burns on above us, as all the creatures that lived in the magic's arteries come out to feed and devour even as they fight for her."

Severus looked upward even as he realised how silly it was to do so. "What can I do? I am just a man."

"You are a wizard, Headmaster," Salazar said. "And a most powerful one. You were cursed with a taint that attunes you to the Dark. If you truly love her and she you, your consummation will free us all. No more blackouts. No more bouts of memory loss— no more interfering elves. Just Hogwarts, the leys as they were meant to be— as they were long before Hogwarts was set upon them, the people within, the creatures that guard it, and its caretakers. Bound to its keeping as air is to breathing."

Salazar cracked his neck. "Or you can lie there in the dirt and die as the frenzy of the beasts rages until they can no longer tell friend from foe and they tear you to pieces in their madness."

"I'm— cursed?" Snape asked.

"Or blessed," Slytherin said with a shrug. "Many things are but opinions that depend solely upon the way one chooses to view it."

"How?"

"Do you not remember when your childhood friend pushed you away and you felt that burning where her hands touched you? On that blustery, winter day just before Christmas, as you begged her to accept your apology? She did not, no. Instead, she cursed you with a nasty little spell hidden so neatly within a borrowed book at the behest of your most hated enemy. The wording was perfect, she thought— what better than to send you off and get you out of her hair so that she could fully enjoy her Christmas, but it was not a small spell. You see, to give immortality to another when you are not yourself immortal or immeasurably vast you must take life from another. And so it did, for as you grew in power, they floundered and died by their own hands because of their careless act of treachery."

"It was my fault she died," Severus sighed.

"No, Severus," Salazar said gently. "It was hers— and theirs for creating the spell to begin with. Your blunder was orchestrated by another who could have easily stopped you. How could he have known that they had cursed you and thus themselves to an end? How could you have known? How is it that it was allowed to even get that far, hrm? Why would a boy being set up to be killed by a werewolf be considered a forgivable sort of action? Why hide it? To protect them? And not you? Think carefully on why that was, Severus. Why isolate you more from the very person you had thought you could trust? Why encourage such pranking, bullying? Why not put the foot down as they say? Why not punish those who truly made it their life's goal to make you their scapegoat for their own superiority?"

Salazar gestured to the arcing energy that was slamming itself into the barrier around Hermione. House elves were popping in to add their magic to it, taking turns reinforcing the barrier to make it stronger even as the suppression magic was starting to wear down the leys' conjoined efforts. The leys were growing steadily more frantic, and the beasts were growing more vicious, tearing into any and all elves that misjudged their Apparition and showed up outside the barrier.

The beasts, deprived of their natural ley-energies, drained the elves they caught utterly dry of magic to continue their assault upon the barrier, casting aside the elves' magicless bodies. The house elves, having never been bereft of their innate magic before, wailed for help from their fellows, but when those fellows arrived to help the elf away, the ley beasts tore into them mercilessly, draining them altogether of any drop of magic within them.

Severus remembered Hermione's warning that once the bond was made to their keeper, the leys were not going to let things go without a fight. He remembered the look of utter panic on her face at the thought of it, and he could feel the change in the air around him as desperation and need was turning to a murderous savagery.

The leys would not remain passive as they were being pushed back into a box this time around. They would not sit idly by as their beloved keeper was torn away from their embrace—

Severus remembered the feel of Hermione's body against his— how _right_ it had felt. His own feelings of being robbed of her warmth when—

The house-elf had dragged him away.

Severus felt the fire burning behind his ribs.

Deprived of _her_.

Deprived of her _tenderness._

Her _compassion._

Her _smile._

Her _touch._

Her— _love._

His yellowed teeth were bared in a snarl as he cracked his neck and stood up, his breaths coming harder and heavier as every jerk of his muscles accelerated a change. His eyes closed, and when they reopened they were wholly black. His skin blackened. Claws pushed out from his nail beds, replacing the puny human nails with weapons. His ears stretched into points as his face jutted out into a snarling muzzle of inhuman savagery as curving horns spiraled from his hair. A thick coat of fur spread over his blackened skin as his cloven hooves shook off the boots and his claws tore away the human clothing.

"Naughty— Naughty," he snarled, his talons wrapping around a house elf that had been drained of magic. He shook it with a jerk, and it turned into a bundle of birch switches. "Some of you have been very, very, bad."

A long, black tongue slid out to lick his yellowed fangs.

Malevolence dripped off his body as he stepped closer to the barrier, and he shoved his bundle of birch switches into the barrier to disrupt the energy.

Elves desperately tried to port in and stop him, but the ley beasts all reared up to keep them at bay.

" _Headmaster must stop now!"_

" _Headmaster mustn't free Hermione Granger!"_

" _Headmaster will destroy everything!_ "

The elves hurried to renew their barriers, but in fighting to keep him in place, it weakened the magic surrounding Hermione, and the leys and beasts slammed even more violently against the barriers.

Snape's teeth glistened as they bared in a vicious smile even as the chaos grew all around him, but when his eyes lay on the woman's body trapped in the barrier, his talons reached around his neck where the silken cravat still hung, even when all the other human fetters lay in pieces on the floor. His cold black eyes seemed to flicker slightly as a hint of recognition filled them.

"H— Hermione," her name came from the snarling muzzle.

His posture straightened. " _ **I am the Headmaster of this school! You will stop this at once!"**_ he roared.

" _Can't stop! Can't stop! Won't!_ " the elves cried.

" _ **By your contract to this school, you WILL obey!**_ " Snape yelled, his twisted talons digging into the shield as he pressed his full weight into it.

" _Can't! Won't! No!_ "

The ground and walls began to shake and shudder as Hogwarts seemed to shake off fetters of Her own. The elves' eyes bulged in utter panic.

" _No! No! We no means it! We not means it like that!"_

Hogwarts, however, was done with being suppressed in meting out Her own justice, and the pathways to the ley energy blasted open all around them. The ley creatures grew larger as their magic was suddenly returned to them, and the elves squealed in terror as Hogwarts unceremoniously yanked them about by the pillowcase and banished the elves from her halls, rooms, and every one of the hidden places all at once— the sound of a loud _**BOOM**_ shaking the entire school.

The Krampus snarled as he tore into the elves' last remaining barrier, and it shattered like glass as his Dark aura tore through it.

Dark slime dripped from his fangs as he cradled the witch in his monstrous arms.

The leys immediately rejoined with her, the arch of energy connecting with her light lightning striking the ground, and Hermione gasped as her body bent like a bow and her eyes opened. Her ashen skin flushed with life again as her body rejoined the leys' embrace even as ley energy crackled over her like a show of fireworks in joyous celebration.

"Severus," she whispered, her hand touching his muzzle, her eyes full of love— even when the Krampus' form was all she had to look upon. "You came back."

He tenderly pressed his forehead to hers. "Always."

She pulled his face down and pressed a kiss to his lips, and Snape's body shuddered as the Krampus form melted away save for a few otherworldly horns and claws.

He growled possessively as his teeth pressed against her neck. "Hermione."

She murmured his name in a moan. "Please, Severus. I _need_ you."

His breath was ragged against her skin. "You must be sure. I don't— think I could stop if—"

She pressed her finger to his lips. "I've wanted to be with you for a very long time, Severus. I just thought— you never wanted a life with. Me."

"What did your mother say to you before she left?" he rumbled.

"Tell him you love him," she whispered. "It's obvious he cares for you very much, and I know you care for him, Hermione."

Severus pressed a cheek to hers, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Mothers are disturbingly insightful creatures. Apparently, they know what my heart has been trying to tell me for months. Longer, perhaps—ever since your return to Hogwarts."

"Severus, that was seven years ago!"

Severus smiled, a little fang showing. "I'm good at denial."

"You're a river," Hermione said wryly. "I guess I am a coward too for not daring to ask you what you thought."

"I probably would have denied it," Severus admitted, his expression falling. "And hurt you."

His claws combed through her hair where his mother's comb tinkled as it struggled to put her hair to rights. "I seem to have a bit of a curse upon me, Hermione."

"I might think those horns are rather hot," Hermione confessed.

Severus' expression grew dark and heated.

"It's an eternal condition," he said, his voice a soft growl.

"Good thing the leys really like me," Hermione said with a coy smile. Ley energy crackled in her eyes as her body seemed to shift from energy to matter and back again.

"I would bind myself to you," he said, his eyes glowing a deep crimson, his voice a growl that was both inhuman and not. "You and you alone. From now until the end of all things. To you, I give everything that I am, the good and the not-so-good. The man and the demon— but above all, my need for you. I _burn_ for you."

Hermione's smile was mischievous. "Is that a proposal?"

"Oh look, a ring." A goblin silver serpent ring hovered between them as Salazar's ghostly form shimmered into view. "How fortuitous!"

Hermione's shriek of embarrassment as she saw Salazar Slytherin caused Severus to snarl at him, his muzzle forming in threat. "Must you be so utterly insufferable?!" he roared.

"Oh, don't be so sour, Headmaster," Salazar said smugly. "Who else can say their marriage was blessed by one of the Founders? Sealed with his own ring, even? Given from me to you to her— Lady Hermione— the Muggleborn witch. How much chaos could _that_ stir in the stalwart belief that I was against them from the start?"

"I like how you think, Mr Slytherin," Hermione said.

"Salazar, please, My Lady." He smiled. "I am the original Slytherin after all." His smile was undoubtedly smug.

"Yes, yes, that is all fine and well," Severus growled, "but I am the one trying to marry her, so if you don't mind?"

Salazar smirked and performed an ornate bow the like of which would have made Lucius green with envy with regard to his style and flourish. "I will be most content indeed to watch from the sidelines as the magical world explodes upon discovering the true reality of so many things. Better, I finally had the pleasure of seeing those damnable house elves banished from this castle. That alone was worth so much more."

Salazar stepped back, his footsteps perfectly silent. "I will serve you in whatever capacity you might require, my Lady. As I always have."

With that his body turned back to ley energy and formed into her favourite wyrm that had been her constant companion since the day she had first returned to Hogwarts. He slither-wiggled up to her, placed a smug nuzzle lick upon her forehead, and zoomed off into the ley energy with a _FOP!_

"My first best friend in the leys was Salazar Slytherin?!" Hermione wailed, mortified.

Snape turned her head around to stare at her. "Marry me. Now."

" _ **Yes!"**_ Hermione blurted just before his mouth sealed over hers and squelched the high-pitch squealing that ensued.

The ring wove itself around her ring finger and glowed as the distinctive crest of Salazar Slytherin wrapped around them both in sincere approval. The heartbeat of Hogwarts pulsed stronger and stronger as the school shook off all of its fetters.

As they descended upon each other in carnal celebration, a tangle of magic, limbs, and everything in between, the students and staff far above found everything had been set to rights.

The meals arrived on the tables as usual, the staircases finally stopped randomly bucking people off, Nearly Headless Nick discovered to his great joy that he wasn't _nearly_ headless any longer (and there was a great celebration over that), the grounds actually caught fallen broom victims, gently setting them back up on two feet, the Whomping Willow allowed properly respectful children to study under its branches while whomping insects out of the air with great fervor, and the Dark Forest didn't seem nearly as dark and threatening anymore.

By the time the Headmaster and his new wife emerged from the depths of the Chamber of Secrets, clad in robes that had not been seen in centuries and both wearing the crest of Salazar Slytherin, the school had already licked its wounds and returned to the new normalcy.

No one seemed to notice that house-elves were missing since the house-elves had always been quite fanatical about never showing their faces to the students and staff as they worked. The ley beasts were unseen by the natural order of things, so they moved things about without a care, often making people believe things were moving about by magic alone.

Unseen by all but the Headmaster and Keeper, the ley creatures dutifully did everything needed from delivering food, fixing plaster, resetting stone, and darning socks— though every so often a wyrmling got itself stuck in a sock and people then witnessed the rather strange sight of an odd sock fleeing the scene as if possessed.

Argus Filch noticed that on his nightly rounds he found fewer and fewer troublemakers. Unbeknownst to him and Mrs Norris the ley beasts had bitten, herded, and driven the snoggers, pranksters, and interlopers out of the closets and back to their dorms (their arses covered in telltale bite marks). Even more strangely to him, the castle seemed to begin helping him out, moving and bringing him things, and even providing some much-needed entertainment for a delighted Mrs Norris. It was almost as if he had never lived in a truly magical castle before then, and his mood improved greatly. Children even began to notice and treat him better because he wasn't so cranky all the time, and Mrs Norris got all the treats, catnip mice, magical replenishing cat grass, and fun feathered kitty toys she could ever dream of.

Pranksters soon found that their more questionable magics always backfired. Others found that their skiving snackboxes went skiving off all on their own. And a certain nosy insect reporter learned that the Whomping Willow was all-too-eager to remember just _why_ it was called a Whomping Willow, and a moaning Rita Skeeter was found plastered up against the Headmaster's balcony, spreadeagle and severely bruised from many, many whompings on a number of mornings when she wasn't found sprawled unconscious on Minerva's balcony, covered from head-to-toe in hundreds of mysterious unidentifiable bite marks— and an equally strange emerald green heart surrounding a miniature basilisk tattoo that appeared on the left cheek of her embarrassingly exposed bottom.

Now, the Headmaster walked with his beloved new wife during her frequent strolls around the castle, and the students and staff couldn't help but notice how much younger he seemed, as if he had shed over a decade's worth of premature age lines along with his stress. He even seemed to better tolerate Professor Slughorn, a fact of which everyone who had been paying attention found rather amazing. The rose bushes had never looked more beautiful and healthy and were completely free of abuse.

Hagrid, however, was constantly coming to the Headmaster's office to complain about how one of his creatures had gone missing only to be reluctant to tell him precisely which one it was or explain how said creature had been brought onto the grounds to begin with—

Minerva noticed that the extensive amount of work she normally had to tend to had inexplicably gotten smaller. Furniture would move out of the way to make her life easier. Papers were stacked in alphabetical order or by topic. Official scrolls were pre-sorted by matter of importance. Acceptance letters were all neatly laid out in alphabetical order to await her signature, and the owls all looked happy, bright eyed, and well-fed— and ready and eager to deliver at her command.

People began to comment that she, too, looked years younger than they remembered, as if much more than just the weight of the war had been lifted from her soul.

The centaur were quite pleased to find that the Acromantula population had somehow been transformed into a vast herd of Irish Elk— a tremendous boon and a blessing no centaur in their right mind would have seen as anything less than manna from heaven.

And as for the very few who happened to catch a glimpse of a ley wyrm frolicking around Ley Master Hermione Snape, she would stop and beckon them closer, allowing them to reach out and touch one of them before the wyrm zipped off to tend the school that was their much-beloved home.

Whenever a new member of the board would be elected in, the more experienced members would always warn them not to attempt to cut funding on their ley master's position lest unspeakable things happen to them. If that member would foolishly dismiss such warnings, they would often come back to the next meeting in a cold sweat stating that Salazar Slytherin had visited them in their dreams and ordered them to ensure said ley master was given a hefty raise … or else.

The elder board members would simply shake their heads and say, "Well, we told you so," before going on to the next matter of business.

And when the Headmaster's office had to be warded against the manky paint-covered hands of young children, the portraits had a good chuckle over how Albus Dumbledore's portrait would mysteriously end up covered in toddler handprints in cheerfully bright shades of finger paint— as if they had help getting up that high to deposit their "art" upon him. Other times, a lovingly scribbled "mum, dad, and us" picture showed the swirling scribbles of the ley wyrms swirling around with crayon-drawn smiles, all carefully taped over Albus' scowling face.

Meanwhile, all of the portraits would happily tell the Snape children all the stories they could, and they would listen quite attentively as their father conducted meetings and other such official business nearby.

They never quite figured out _how_ one door in daddy's office could lead "home" to where mummy was waiting, but they soon accepted that magic was just that: magic. "Unca Salazar" was a dutiful uncle who kept them out of trouble and taught them manners that befit a "proper Slytherin," much to Hermione's amused resignation and Severus' smug pride.

They never _did_ figure out how Unca Salazar always knew when they were up to something—

Or how the ley wyrms always knew the very moment they were trying to sneak out of bed or steal biscuits from the jar—

It was hard to lie and claim you were innocent when the ley wyrm bites on your rump clearly indicated otherwise.

But every Christmas, Daddy always kissed Mummy goodnight, tucked his children in, and said he would see them in the morning.

And in the morning, they would find large knit boots filled to overflowing with sweets and toys and mum and dad would be curled up together in bed. The Snape children would gleefully pounce on the bed and wake them up so they could open presents despite daddy's grumpy mood and mummy's weary and exasperated expression.

Chloe would ask why her daddy wore horns during the Christmas hols, and Callum would swear that whenever their daddy kissed mummy that he had loads of sharp teeth and claws.

Mummy would always smile and tell them that she loved their daddy, most especially because of those things, because she knew he loved both her and them very, very much.

* * *

_**Anniversary of the Day it Rained Elves** _

_Twenty years ago, it rained elves in Hogsmeade. Literally. Music seemed to ring out from all around to the tune of 'There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays' as countless scores of homeless house-elves fell in droves all over Hogsmeade and immediately spread out in search of jobs._

_No one knew why or how, but the town had never seen so many elves in one place. All of them were dressed head-to-toe in red and green garments which made them appear to be the living embodiment of Christmas._

_When asked about what brought them to Hogsmeade, all the elves could seem to offer in response was a cheery wish for a happy holiday, Happy Christmas, or even Happy New Year._

_When the then-reporter Rita Skeeter accused Hogwarts of firing their elves over wage negotiations started by the trollop Hermione Granger's pointless quest for house-elf rights, Headmaster Snape simply pulled out the very long contract for all of the house-elves, which revealed that there was absolutely nothing amiss._

_Many believe this was likely the start of Rita Skeeter's subsequent descent into madness, as her reporting became progressively more and more odd, even quite paranoid, as time passed._

_The Day It Rained Elves became a great blessing for so many families in need who had never possessed the wealth or connections to acquire house-elves— something that had long been seen as an exclusively pureblood privilege. Businesses in Hogsmeade are now blessed with much-needed help, grateful families are reporting much relief after the war with assistance from the elves, and families such as the Weasleys found a great boon in their burgeoning 24/7 Wizarding daycare service designed for round-the-clock members of the vast Ministry workforce._

_Regardless of what really caused the rain of elves back on that particular Christmas morning, the Wizarding World can only say thank Merlin for whoever or whatever was behind that most generous gift._

* * *

_**The Shocking Truth of Rowena Ravenclaw** _

_The more than a little shocking truth of one of the founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was revealed in the best-selling memoir of author Chloe Snape: Growing Up Snape._

_After having grown up as the daughter of the reigning Headmaster, the enigmatic and mysterious Severus Snape, as well as the famed Ley Master Hermione Snape (née Granger), Chloe unveils research dating back to the time of the Founders that includes details on the construction of the school, how Headmasters replaced the Founders, and the stunning truth behind Salazar Slytherin's infamous banishment from Hogwarts._

_She describes what it is truly like to live and grow up in a magical school that sits on a ley nexus and how Hogwarts now greatly differs from the times when her mother and father attended Hogwarts._

_Chloe Snape is being asked to write the latest update of Hogwarts: A History to include the unearthed research she discovered while writing her memoir._

_When asked how she knew where to find such information, Miss Snape replied with a mysterious smile, "Salazar Slytherin told me."_

_Rumour has it that Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter who haunts Hogwarts to this day, has expressed great relief that the truth about her mother has at long last come to light— something she was under geas to prevent her from speaking of until it was uncovered by the living. Between the truth being exposed and her mother's diadem being destroyed in the war, Helena's ghost appears to have finally found peace._

_Those wishing to meet the author and have their book signed are cordially invited to visit Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley this Saturday from noon to four._

* * *

Long after their first children left the nest to experience Hogwarts as students living "on their own," graduated, and plunged forth on a great and glorious adventure known as life, a certain Krampus would cradle his lovely mate to himself as the leys tucked them in together.

The ley wyrms would dicker over who got the snuggling rights for that night, tucking themselves around the pair like living blankets all while a certain particularly smug ley wyrm tucked himself under Hermione's arm to serve as her comfy pillow.

"I love you," Hermione whispered into her beloved mate's wonderfully soft, oily fur as he growled softly and pulled her closer.

Severus' eyes lit with a soft red glow. His tongue slid across his teeth. "I wish to do Very. Naughty. Things. With. You. My. Love."

Hermione accepted his kiss with a moan and drew her nails lightly across his back, her slender fingers weaving into his thick black coat of winter fur. "Mmm, please do."

"As my lady commands," he purred as the Krampus and the man came to a perfect agreement. The bestial muzzle fell away so he could give his mate the kiss she desired. "Always."

Their magic combined as they joined together for their pleasure, the leys vibrating wildly in approval. The small cottage seemed to glow from the inside like a bright prism made of various shifting colours as hundreds of baby wyrms exited the ley streams for the very first time, following their parents out into the world that would be their home.

Salazar smiled, all fang, from his perch on the top of the bed canopy as he started the wyrm betting pool on how many nieces and nephews would be on the way even as Hogwarts did a little celebrating of its own by happily cleaning and setting up the nursery again for its most beloved caretakers.

* * *

_And they lived leytastically ever after…_

* * *

**A/N:** Big thank you to my betas in this, as I was a paranoid wreck writing this story. Any time I have prompts given to me by someone else, my brain just ploughs headlong into a snowdrift and leaves me flailing about. I appreciate you, love you, and thank you. Umbrella_Ella, I hope you liked your story.

** This is a very real phrase from a very real mother. It broke my brain, and I had to use it. Thanks, Mer-mom!


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